


Demolition Lovers

by actionncat



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, Student Frank, Teacher Gerard, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:46:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actionncat/pseuds/actionncat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero feels like a failure 24/7. His mother is sure to tell him this every single day. Frank quickly starts to deteriorate but with tuition's from the new math teacher, Frank feels like anything but a failure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started to write a frerard and I have a feeling this could be a good one, feedback is appreciated, anyway enjoy :)

"Stop it!" I yelled across the hall to my mom as I turned my back to her and quickly ran back to my room, slamming the door behind me and throwing myself onto my bed. I quietly begun to cry into my pillow as I heard my mom shouting at me as she began getting closer and closer to my bedroom door. "Just leave me alone," I sobbed.

"You get back out here right now, Frank," I heard her yell down the hall, he footsteps becoming heavier as her rage became more noticeable.

This whole stupid argument had kicked off about half an hour ago when I made the foolish decision to tell my mom I was failing math and thought I might need some extra tuition, but instead of telling me I'd soon get better and make me believe everything would eventually be okay and actually pay for a tutor, she decided to flip out and tell me how much of a disgrace I was to the family. So far, every single person in my family had made it to college and university and now had a successful career. I didn't want any of that. I wanted to play music for a living. I wanted to be myself, not someone who pretended to be happy with a job they'd eventually end up hating. There was no point in that. I wanted to play guitar in a band, and tour the world and meet new people. That's wat I wanted.

"It's not my fault I whispered." I understood that I was a failure at everything. My mom made me aware of that every single day I woke up and came home from school. Math was my weaker point. And by weaker point I mean I kept getting E's and D's. I didn't really care for the subject but I wanted a good grade. I wanted to eventually be accepted into a college, or a university. My dream was to be accepted into music school, eventually anyway.

"I'm ashamed to call you my son, Frank Iero," she began. "No wonder your father left us. He knew you'd turn out to be the failure of the family and that's why he left. Because of you, you, you freak," she snarled. My cries became more frequent and louder because I really did believe her, why else would he leave us? My mother, when she's not storming around the house, can be a decent woman and she's also a very beautiful although I guess some would call me biased since she's my own mom. My father was everything I wanted to be, a talented musician, but of course I let him down and he left me alone with her. I had once told my mom that I wanted to become a musician. She thought it was a terrible idea and that I'd get no where in life. She didn't even give me a chance to get my words out.

My moms screams of abuse kept coming and I knew she could go on all night and I didn't want to be here listening to them all night. I'd only be kept up by her all night and I'd already been lacking a lot of sleep which I felt like I needed but also didn't deserve. I sat myself up on the edge of my bed and tried to push away the falling tears yet they just seemed to keep falling. I hated crying. It made me feel weak, and vulnerable; and I hated people seeing me like that. I briskly walked to my door and walked straight past my mom, not giving a care in the world if I bashed into her with my shoulder, although I knew that it'd get me into trouble when I decided to make my way back home later on in the night.

"And where do you think you're going, Frank? Hmm? Running away again? Oh please, last time the cops brought you back within two hours," she smirked. Yes, that's right, smirked. She reminded me of some sadistic killer I'd seen recently on a documentary. But of course, the police would only find me and they'd take me back home to a false mother who pretended she loved me dearly just so she wouldn't have her abuse toy in the house.

I was almost at the door before I stopped in my tracks at my mothers next choice of words. My heart stopped beating for a second and my breathing faltered.

"How about another failed suicide attempt?" She directed at me with a smug grin. She didn't care. She didn't care that she was breaking her son into a thousand little pieces that eventually wouldn't be able to be put back together again. That one look was enough to tell me she didn't give a shit about me at all.

And my tears started falling again. I ran out of that house and ran for as long as my lungs and stomach could take me. Fuck what I said about my mother being a decent woman at times, she's an all-time bitch. How dare she. How fucking dare she say that to me. More importantly, how did she know. She didn't even check on me. She was too busy to be giving a shit about me. She had a life that she didn't want me to be apart of.

I was too confused and hurt to be racking my brain with this sort of stuff, especially whilst I was running. I didn't want to have a panic attack whilst running. Those don't end well, or so I've heard.

My legs carried my to as far as the Starbucks a few streets away from my house. I have a small build and no muscle so I'm surprised I even made it this far. Luckily I always manage to have spare change in my pockets, which was handy at this moment in time.

I decided to hang around outside a little before I went in because no doubt my face looked blotchy from running and crying, not to mention my breathing was terribly uneven, and now didn't seem like the best time to be getting any unwanted attention. I hated attention, probably more than I hated my own mother.

As I walked through the door, I noticed that the place was fairly deserted. Well, it was pretty late and most of the teenagers who hang around here usually have early curfews. Suckers.

The lighting of the room was extremely bright that it made me squint my eyes to start with to adjust the dark to light my eyes were going through. The chairs were green, the tables brown, most likely made of beech by the shade of it. Don't ask me how I knew that, I just know I have a lot of spare time on my hands, especially when I mostly spend my time in libraries, in coffee shops, in malls. Anything to be away from her.

I walked up to the cashier and asked for a regular coffee, black. I usually liked adding my own cream and sugar, just to be sure I get the amount that I like. As the cashier was sorting out my coffee, I quickly scanned the room to find a table that I'd prefer and managed to spot my usual back table on the left side, free. This lady seemed to be taking a lot longer than I would've like her to have and I felt really awkward standing here with the few strangers that were sat down able to see me in such a clear view. I just wanted to fade away so no one could see me. Eventually, she brought over my coffee and I paid and quickly went and sat at the back table that I usually sit in.

I liked this table more than others. Mostly because it's dimmer here, and I'm not sat directly next to a window, they're on the right side. I'd also learnt that the seats were comfier as I'd had to make my way round several other tables when my place had been taken by someone else. It also reminded me of the summer I had spent with my best friend, Ray, before he moved away to California. We had engraved our names in the corner of the table closest to the wall.

That was three years ago, when my I was happy.

The coffee seemed to be helping my confusion and hurt feeling, however mostly it was somehow making me sleepier than before. Wasn't coffee supposed to do the complete opposite?

My eyes felt heavy and so did my heart, to put it in non poetic terms. How could my own mother say something like that to her son. It makes me feel like she really does want me gone. She probably does. She probably hopes that I will run away, or that I'll eventually get so sick of myself I'll take my own life. Maybe I will. Maybe I should do that. The endless possibilities of how I could eventually end my life came coursing through my head.

Overdose.  
Cutting too deep.  
Hanging.  
Finding a gun and eating a bullet.  
Running out in front of a train.  
Falling from the highest building.

To me, the possibilities were endless. And of course they were endless when I had already had these thoughts before. It was roughly this time last year when everything went to shit. Everything just started crumbling down. It started off with a few bullies, tormenting me with words every now and then. A month or two later things got very physical. They'd beat me up at least once a week; I had to go into the hospital twice with a broken arm and a broken nose. Soon enough, the words got to me and I started ot believe everything they said. I believed I was fat, ugly, worthless. They made me feel like a piece of shit. I still believe it all now.

Maybe I should go through with it. Save everybody the burden of me weighing down on their shoulders. I had hardly no friends, and the ones I did have always blew me off for someone else. That wasn't really friendship in my opinion. My mom definitely wouldn't care at all. I think she stopped caring about me the day my dad left and of course, why shouldn't she hate me? I have so many things wrong with me that I don't blame her for hating me. But being so blunt about it. Literally talking to me about my own suicide attempt? How dare she.

Somehow it became aware to people that I wasn't the straightest ruler in the pot and that I swung mainly towards boys. However this led me to meet my first boyfriend, Billie. He was such a nice person and I loved him and I truly believed he loved me. Of course I was wrong. It turned out he was straight and used me for sex when his girlfriend refused him. Again, the word got out and the tormenting picked up again, as did the beatings. No one said anything to Billie though, of course they didn't. He wasn't weird, or ugly, or the 'emo' kid. He was the person everyone wanted to be. Actually, it didn't get out that he had been with me. Billie masked his name with someone elses.

It was a Thursday night when the usual gang were hanging around the corner of the park. I just wanted to run as I saw them approach me, but I couldn't. My legs were fixed to the floor. As the first swing to my stomach came, I tried to scream but no words came out. They beat me so I was a wreck on the floor. Blood was everywhere. In my hair, on my clothes, on the floor. Yet I picked myself up and walked home. I had already planned what would happen. I'd go home, pick up some pain relief and make my way up to the bathroom.

When I got home I did just that. I trailed up to the bathroom, my mom already asleep, and locked myself in there. I poured myself a glass of water, emptied a few of the packets leaving me with roughly thirty pills and also found out my razor set. I guess you can work out what happened from there. I awoke the next morning at about eleven, my mum out of the house at work, with me on the bathroom floor; still bleeding and incredibly drowsy. I had failed. The one thing I was so sure about, I had failed. I wanted my life to end so badly and I couldn't even do that.

I quickly came back to reality and took a sip of my coffee to find it was starting to cool. How long had I sat here? I checked my iPod to find out I'd been sat thinking for over an hour. I decided to listen to some music and people watch.

People watching was a hobby of mine. It sounds a little creepy, but I'm just so fascinated by how happy, or sad, people can be. I scanned the room and noticed hardly anyone was here, maybe six people or less. There was an elderly man, probably in his mid 60's, reading a newspaper and by the headline it seemed to be a pretty old newspaper. There was a young couple, no older than 30, who were sat opposite each other holding each others hands. It was quite a beautiful sight to be most honest. Of course, there was the cashier. She looked to be young, maybe in college and I'd say about 19. She looked incredibly bored and if I recall correctly, her name was Laura, or Lauren. I didn't quite pick up her name properly from her name tag. So, including myself, five people in total.

That was until someone else walked through the door.

He seemed to be fairly tall, taller than me anyway, with longish red hair and was dressed all in black; his clothing hugging his body tightly. He ordered what I had ordered and made his way to sit three tables away from me. I enjoy people watching, because people like him came in. People, if I could muster up the courage to takl to people, I could probably get along well with. He was just so, how shall I put it? Different. He was attractive to say the least, but then again, so was the other guy sat about six tables away from me sat with his girlfriend. I like how his hair fell messily over his face with no particular style. Some strands dangling in front of his face, other strands tucked behind his ears. And the back just falling wearily above his shoulders, too short to properly rest there.

The mystery guy looked up at me, most likely detecting someone was looking at him, and my eyes met his. He had soft hazel eyes, that seemed to be smiling even without the rest of his face showing that emotion anyway. I simply smiled at him before looking away to take a sip of my coffee. Cool coffee was the worst so I decided to get a fresh one. I wasn't too sure how long Starbucks stayed open for, but I knew I'd be staying here for as long as possible.

I made my way over to the cashier once again, looking at the newcomer to the coffee shop again. He only saw me looking again and a small blush crept on my cheeks because I knew I had been caught. Again.

I ordered the same again. I collected the same amount of sugar and cream to put in it and the little stirrer thing you used. The total was the same again, obviously. I paid, again, and walked back over to my table, not looking at the new man this time.

Back at my table, I sank into the seat, secretly putting my feet up onto the other seat. It was like a booth so I knew no one would be able to see my feet were up on the seats anyway. Not that I cared if they saw me anyway.

The elderly man was leaving now. I flashed him a small smile as he got up to which he just nodded back. I seemed to do that a lot. Smile at strangers. I think that was to let the person know I wasn't going to harm them as most people my age would probably just scowl and yell a ton to their friends. Of course, I never hung around with anyone. Okay, that's a lie. I have a friend called Jamia. Shes been my friend for a long time. She was different to other people. She was so accepting of me, of my choices. I was thankful I had a friend like her. Me and her weren't like the usual teenagers. We were actually very calm despite the fact we looked 'dark' and looked a lot like 'emos'. I didn't really care what people thought about me, but if anything upset Jamia then they'd have hell to pay, that's to put it kindly.

I seemed to have been lost in my mind for a while when the cashier came up to me to make me aware that they were shutting the place up. Jeez. What time was it? 9:59pm apparently. I simply nodded, grabbed my coffee and walked out the door and when I did, it hit me that I'd have to go back home. Back to the abuse. Back to the arguments. The screaming the shouting. Before I knew it and I had tears running down my face and I was sat on the floor leaning against the wall of the building, my head buried deep in my hands.

"It's not good for your posture to sit like that," someone informed me. I looked up to see it was the red haired guy from inside.

I simply shrugged, looking away from him to the floor.

"I really don't care," I replied in a snarky, yet quiet, tone of voice. I really wasn't in the mood to be lectured as to how I should be sitting.

"Well, whatever," he continued. The mystery man just stood there in front of me, looking down constantly at me. I didn't dare look up, he'd already caught me looking at him way too many times in the past few hours, plus I was crying and I really didn't want any sympathy from anyone. He just continued to stare and in all honesty, it made me feel a little uneasy.

"Are you just going to stay there or are you going to move along," I shot at him, not meaning to sound so rude. I finally looked up at him and I was now able to see his features much more clearly under the street light. His lips were small and pink, his chin sharp yet rounded and his pale complexion made his hair and eyes stand out that much more. His face was a little stunned at my remark.

"Uhm, no, sorry. I'll go now, it was nice to meet you, uhm..."

"Frank," I replied, a little kinder now.

"Gerard. Well, I best be going and uhm, get out of your hair then."

And with that he was off, trudging along the sidewalk into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

My head was pounding as I awoke in my own bed.

Last night I decided it was best that I went home otherwise my mom would be on my back even more. It took a lot of convincing though, but where else would I have slept? It was about eleven when I decided to move from the spot I sat in after Gerard had left me alone. He seemed a little off, but then again, I didn't know the guy so that could be how he usually he is. I found it a little weird how he actually spoke to me. Maybe he was just giving me friendly advice, I told myself. But I highly doubted that.

When I came home, I decided to climb in through my window. I always left it unlocked as I was scared about the thought of a fire or something stupid in my house, so the window was always unlocked so I could just throw it up and jump out. My mom once shouted at me for leaving it unlocked but then eventually she learned to just put up with it. It's just one of those little weird things everyone seems to have.

The house was quiet, but I expected it to be quiet with it being almost one in the morning by the time I mustered up the courage to come home. A light was on in the house downstairs, but I wasn't too sure if it was just left on for me to come home or if my mom had actually waited up for me to yell at me some more. Turns out it was just a light accidentally being left on.

Now I laid in my room, with the sun peeping in through the crack in my curtains, curled up in a tight ball with the covers wrapped around me tightly. To say the sun was out I was really cold. I looked around to notice that I left the window was opened slightly. My arm wandered over to my bedside table to reach for my phone to register what time it was.

7:16am.

Why was I awake at this time? I never woke up so early, especially on a school day. Something must be terribly wrong with me, especially since I only had about six hours of sleep. However, I quickly pushed it aside as the first real thought that came to mind was coffee. I pretty much thrived off coffee. Well, coffee and cigarettes whenever I could get a hold of any. Being just under the age limit and what I felt like 4ft, I found it hard to actually buy any so I kept to sneaking a few of my moms, and also Jamia's whenever she could get any.

I pushed back the warm comfort of my cover and threw my feet to the floor. The carpet beneath my feet felt soft and fluffy and was very warm to say I hadn't been walking around on it. I found out some fresh clothes; fresh clothes being black skinny jeans, a white tshirt along with a black hoody. Although it looked warm, I wasn't going to be fooled today.

My room was fairly simple. The walls were white with a few posters of my favorite bands scattered around on one wall. On another wall, I had my clothes drawers and a desk next to it. My bed was on the furthest wall along with the window. My room looked clean simply because of the white which was all over my bedroom, however, it was too light for me to like it but my mom insisted on it being a light room. Probably in hope that I'll move along from the 'emo phase' as she calls it.

I wasn't too sure as to where my mom would be now. Either she was in the house or at work, and I'd rather it be the latter. I couldn't be bothered with her petty comments,and more argument starters, all I wanted was to get to school just so I could get home again and most likely sleep the evening away. It usually happened like that. I rarely left the house, and when I did it was to get a coffee. I feel like I rarely see Jamia outside of school which, I guess, is true. She's more of the 'inside-of-school' type of friend, although I rarely object when she decides to make arrangements.

I located my school bag over by my desk and made sure I had near enough the right books I'd need for the day before heading downstairs.

The house sounded quiet and hopefully it would also be empty, and to my happiness, it was; I wouldn't be having to deal with my moms screams before setting off to school. It was almost 8am meaning the school bus would be here shortly. I rummaged through the cupboards expecting to be satisfied by food for a change, but I wasn't. Ever since my dad left I'd been completely put off by food. I'd lost over three stone make me 'extremely underweight' but it didn't bother me, I didn't feel skinny. All I saw in myself was a disgusting, fat boy. My BMI didn't mean anything, doctors had said that they were inaccurate so maybe my doctor just calculated it wrong.

A bottle of Dr Pepper stood out to me as I looked through the fridge and decided that that would do for my breakfast and lunch. For my dinner I'd go to Starbucks for a coffee and, maybe if I felt a little hungry, some form of cookie they usually sold.

I fastened my hoodie up, placed my bag on my back, and made my way out into the cold air which instantly nipped at my nose. I didn't want to be outside for long so I thought it'd be best if I brisk walked to the bus stop. I lived in a nice part of town which was quiet and I guess more secluded than other parts. It was more of a private estate meaning the walk to the bus was longer. It was quite a picturesque area, with trees with bright orange leaves and small dainty flowers growing near the roots. I never got bored of the view, even if it was the same most of the time.

The bus was there waiting for me as I turned the corner, and quickly ran to be sure it wouldn't set off. The warmth of the bus made my nose go a little numb and I was happy to see my usual seat was available. Despite being the most unpopular kid of the school, I think people came to terms with whose seat was whose. Mine was on the left hand side, 5 seats forward from the back. It was closest to the small weird radiator thing that buses usually had so I was warm through the harsher months but I was also directly next to a window which allowed me to cool myself down during the warmer months.

It was unusually quiet today, not many students were on the bus today which I found a little odd but great at the same time. I'm not the most social person and prefer the nice quieter crowds, so hardly no one on the bus was perfect for me.

I sadly watched as the picturesque views turned into daunting buildings and finally into the death camp, wait, I mean school. It was a weird creamy brown shaded building which was three storeys high along with a, I guess you would call, basement which was used for indoor gym class. Then of course we had a field, which used to be green, but now looked like a huge mud pit.

Sighing deeply, I trudged off the bus and was welcomed to loud crowds of screaming and shouting. Urgh. It was only Tuesday and girls still insisted on screaming when they saw each other. Get a grip.

I always found it hard trying to push through the crowd to get to my form room, mostly because I find it hard telling people to move out of the way so I have to squeeze through the smaller gaps. You'd think someone as small as me would be able to fit through the gaps, but trust me, it wasn't easy at all. Even for my height.

My form room was fairly decent. The teacher was also fairly decent. Miss Smith was very understanding and not like the usual teachers who'd pass your troubles off as nothing. She had been there for me since I first started school and I felt like I could trust her with a lot of stuff, which was all new as I rarely trusted people.

"Morning, Frank," Miss Smith greeted me with a smile as I walked through the door, to which I replied with a 'morning'. I sat at my usual desk, which was on the left hand side 3 chairs from the front, and checked my timetable for the day. Most people would be able to say their timetable at ease by now with it being October, but not me. I had English, Music, History, Biology and to finish the day, double math. Math was the lesson I wasn't looking forward to. I was failing it, and I was failing it hard. I hadn't reached the target of an A, which is what I wanted, ever and the highest I had been given was a C. My math teacher mentioned something about a possible tutor but he'd probably just tell me to come back at lunch, which didn't sound at all exciting. Then again, math wasn't exciting.

The room began to fill up as I heard the bell ring, signalling to go to form. I had no one in my form, no one that I could really talk to or get along with. I had Miss Smith, but apparently it'd be deemed as weird if I made conversation with her. However, having no one didn't bother me. I was used to it by now. I had Jamia but even then she wasn't really 'there'. I'd still call her my best friend just because of everything I've told her. Secrets, feelings, what I've done, just everything.

"Frank?" I heard Miss Smith break me from my thoughts.  
"Yeah?" I questioned.  
"Can I talk with you outside for a moment?"  
Now, of course I said yes, but when a teacher wants to talk to you 'outside for a moment' all you can think is 'what have I done wrong?' I was well behaved in class, and I usually completed all my homeworks. So I was beyond confused. However, as I walked out of the classroom I saw an all too familiar face from last night.

"So, your math teacher told me you were having some trouble and I decided to go out of my way to find you a tutor. I'll leave you two alone to sort out a form of timetable and get to know each other and then you can come back in, Frank."

I simply nodded and watched as she returned back into the classroom. I was staring at the man from last night who commented on my posture and went by the name of Gerard. However, he looked a lot different wearing a shirt and tie rather than the black outfit from yesterday. I wondered if he recognised me, after all it was fairly dark. Hopefully he didn't. His eyes stood out to me. Dark brown. I hardly got a chance to look at them properly seeing as though it was fairly dark yesterday, even when we were in the coffee shop.

"So, you're failing math," He stated more than asked, and again I nodded. He didn't formally introduce himself to me. From nowhere, he pulled out a black binded book which I guess was his form of journal or diary he used for his teacher duties. He ran his finger down one of the pages and I noticed how slim yet short they were. Weird.

Gerard, or the teacher, I wasn't sure what I'd have to call him, cleared his throat. "Well, you have math today. So how about you come to my office, which is at the end of the math corridor, during your second lesson and we'll sort out a clear timetable for you. Hopefully you'll have your grade up to whatever it is you wish it to be by your exams, which are very soon, right?"  
"Yeah, I think they're around June time, I'm not sure. No one's given me a month yet," I replied, Gerard simply nodded.  
"Well, I'll find out for you so we're clear on everything."

I just stood there and nodded. Technically, I kind of knew him, but in reality, who were I kidding. He was a stranger to me. I knew his name nothing more. No wonder I was so quiet standing around him.

"Okay, well I'll see you later," Gerard quickly told me and again, I nodded.  
"I'm Mr Way, by the way."  
"I'm Frank," I smiled lightly.  
"I know," was all Mr Way said before he turned on his heel, probably back to his office and left me in the corridor by myself wondering if he was referring back to our greeting last night or if my form teacher had told him my name beforehand.


	3. Chapter 3

The only lesson I really enjoyed at school was music. It was the one lesson which I could truly express myself without being judged for it. I could sing how I felt or I could play the guitar to how I felt. Usually though, I just stuck with playing the guitar. It was easier and I didn't have to embarrass myself if I sang a note too high or low. Singing was more for myself, I very rarely sang aloud, especially by myself. Music was like the only lesson I was doing well in, and there was no reason for me not to do well. I connected with music, and that connection is what made me do well. My music teacher, Mr Forster, was also pretty inspiring. He was able to play the piano perfectly without missing a key plus he had a pretty amazing singing voice for a guy.

Today we had to try and write some of our own lyrics and in the next lesson we'd be putting music to it. I had so many ideas coursing through my head but none of them felt like they could fit together to make some form of song. I started to think of recent events; whether it was in the news or whether it was what had happened to me recently. My mind started soaring back to last night. How low I felt because of how stupid my mom made me feel. How much I wanted to run away. And that's when my wrist started to move my hand to write random words on the paper before me.

Random words soon turned into sentences and the sentences soon began to look a lot like verses and those verses soon turned into a completed song. I read it over a couple of times to check for any form of mistakes before reading it aloud to myself.

I think of running away,  
I can't keep running away.  
Can't keep feeling the same.  
I can't keep taking the blame.  
I wanna run with you.  
I don't care what we do,  
Gotta get out of this place,  
Because it feels like yesterday.

Day...day...day oh oh oh...

There we go.  
Can't be wrong  
Cause it feels like yesterday  
I can't be wrong.  
I'm re-living yesterday.  
I can't be wrong.  
Cause it feels like yesterday.  
I can't be wrong.  
I'm re-living yester...

The two verses repeated itself three times and although it was repetition, I felt happy about it. As I said before, music is the one place I can really get across how I feel. The end of the lesson seemed to come around really quickly today because that meant I had history shortly and I really wasn't prepared for that lesson at all. Mr Forster told us that we'd be performing our songs next week, so obviously my mind was more focused on that than history.

I used to be in a band, which is where my decently good lyric writing skills came from. We were called Pencey Prep and we'd sometimes play at open mic nights at the local coffee shop. We picked up a few fans along the way but eventually had to stop the band when one of the members had to move to another state. For me, it was quite upsetting seeing as though I had gotten so into the band, but it was understandable. I hoped the band would of carried on without him, but we decided it wouldn't have worked. So instead I went solo but I never played at the open mic nights, definitely not by myself. That would have me too much anxiety and then an anxiety attack would have made its way through me and I really didn't want that to happen.

Bringing myself back to the present, I decided that it wouldn't be the worst decision of my life to skip the next few lessons. The teachers probably wouldn't notice, plus, I could sit behind the bleachers and no one would be able to tell I was even in there. So that's what I decided to do. I waited til near the end of break to get my acoustic guitar and when the bell signaled it was the end of break, I quickly made my way across the extremely muddy field. Most people would usually be scared of being busted, especially if it was their first time of skipping a lesson but I felt really relaxed for some odd reason. Maybe it was because I knew what I'd be doing in the next couple of hours. The one thing that I was most passionate about.

When I reached the bleachers I ducked to get underneath them, even for my height I found there were some things that were even smaller than me. It wasn't, surprisingly, muddy under here which made everything seem a little more okay. However, just to be sure, I pulled out my spare hoodie from my bag and placed it on the floor so I could sit on it. I sat and rested my guitar across my knees because if I ruined this guitar then, well, I'd be really upset. I pretty much respected this guitar like Christians respected God, which seems like a stupid comparison but it's more than true.

I looked around, just to be sure everyone had gone, because getting caught wasn't something that I wanted to happen, before getting out my music notebook. In it it had every song, chord, completed song or just random lyrics I had ever written. I was proud of my notebook and I took it everywhere with me in case I had a random outburst of creativity whilst I was out of the house. I've had it since I was about eleven. Since I could remember, music had been my only real escape from the world. Most kids would turn to their toys or a TV show, but I had my music.

Setting my notebook down in front of me, I started strumming randomly at my guitar strings. I sang aloud the lyrics I had wrote, trying to pick up a tune which I felt fit to the mood of the song. I was constantly writing chords and notes down in my notebook, trying to find the one that would fit the lyrics best. I got so into the music, into the rhythm my guitar decided to strum, into the way the lyrics rolled off my tongue into a perfect tune with the guitar.

As most song writing does, it took a bit of time to get it all right and to get the right tune and I hardly noticed that it was lunch time already. I wasn't sure as to how long it had actually been lunch time. I guess I really did get into the music. However, it didn't bother me, just as long as no one came over here, I guess I'll be fine. I don't usually eat anyway with this strict diet and all.

I decided to take a little break from music and instead did some people watching. Everyone seemed so happy to say they were at school. There was so much laughter and smiling and it hurt me a little to know I'll never be as normal, as happy, as they all are. A couple stood out to me most. Male and female. He was fairly tall, brown curly hair wearing skin tight jeans and she had quite a petite frame with blonde hair and one of the shortest skirts I'd ever seen. Them two together seemed a little strange, like they didn't match. Usually the blonde would go for a jock, right? That sounds so stereotypical, but she just looks like the usual movie portrayed popular girl who everyone loves.

Sometimes I wish I could be in the perfect relationship, no worries, just you and your life long best friend connected through sharing the same feelings for one another. I've been in relationships before but none of them ever worked out. None of them were ever serious on their half. Apparently I was a very needy person and I was very clingy. Of course I didn't see myself like that. I just like having someone there.

Lunch quickly turned into lesson four; Biology. I've never been good at Biology, even if it is more 'common sense' because it's to do with the body. I mean, why am I ever going to need to know what a ribosome is when I'm later playing guitar, or how the digestive system works? I'm not. That's up to the doctors and nurses to know that.

I had finished my song a while ago but I didn't really want to go class. No one wants to class but today, everything felt so overwhelming, especially after last night. It had dawned on me all day but for some reason the emotions of yesterday hit me there and then and I couldn't do anything else but cry. I was so glad I wasn't in class, but then again if I were in class, my mind would be far too wandered for me to have gotten to this point of reliving my past. I hated it. Just thinking of how low my own mom made me feel. I guess it didn't help that my song reflected last nights events. Urgh, I tried to push the thoughts to the back of my head and decided now would be a good time to go to the toilet to sort myself out.

The walk to the toilet felt long and more daunting compared to any other time I had walked this length. Maybe it was because I knew my face would be blotchy from crying, or maybe it was because now I was scared of being caught by a teacher. I'd like to think it was the former rather than the latter. I hated people seeing me when I was crying, especially when my face was all red and puffy because it's not a good luck. It also brings you a lot of unwanted attention which is something I don't like.

Of course, the toilets were empty. Many of the teachers had a strict 'go to the toilet in your own time' rule which is why it'd be easier to go now. And of course, my face was very blotchy. It was bright red mixed with my pale skin tone and it looked very off. I splashed cool water on my face before going off to do my business and wash my hands again afterwards.

I looked back in the mirror to see the redness had started to go down and my face was starting to look more itself again. The contrast between my pale skin tone and black hair becoming more clear again.

I was tempted to skip the rest of Biology but I wasn't prepared to sit around in the toilet for the next thirty-five minutes so I decided to make my way to. I'd give the teacher some bullshit excuse that I had an appointment and only just come back into school; hopefully she'd buy it.

However, I wasn't even half way to the class before I ran into the all too familiar stranger that is my soon to be math tutor.

"Shit, sorry," I squeaked as I noticed I made Gerard, or Mr. Way, drop all his papers on the floor.  
"It's fine," he brushed it off quickly, "I should have been looking where I was going." I simply nodded.  
"Speaking of looking, I was just about to come get you, why aren't you in lesson?" he questioned.  
"Appointment," I blurted all too loudly. Gerard, dammit, Mr. Way seemed to look like he bought it before motioning for me to follow him. I wasn't sure what it was about, maybe it was to do with the tutoring. Or maybe he was coming to talk about last night? Shut up, Frank. Why would he want to talk about last night. Nothing worth talking about happened.

Mr. Way led me to a small room which I suppose was his office and ushered me inside and closed the door. It was fairly large to say it was for a math tutor. It had his main desk at the back center of the room with one of those soft cushioned spinny chairs on the opposite side to which I was standing on. There was a smaller desk to the left of the room with two chairs which I guessed would be my desk for when I would be being taught by him. There were filing cabinets to the right along with plenty of papers stacked on top of them, probably getting ready to be filed. What caught my attention, however, was a poster on his cork board. A Smiths poster?

"You're a Smiths fan?" I meant to question in my head but spoke aloud. Damn.  
"Yeah. They're one of my favorite bands actually." Mr. Way replied with a smile.  
"Awesome," I simply mouthed.  
"Anyway, pull a chair up and we'll go through everything now so we know where to go from here." He pointed to a chair as he sat in his own comfy looking seat. He relaxed into it as I pulled up the hard, unwanted, student chair. I sighed heavily as I sat down.

Mr. Way had began to flick through a few papers and I noticed how his eyelashes kept flickering up and down as he started new sentences and found the page he was looking for. He looked directly at me and I noticed how his hazel brown eyes looked very delicate between his rather long eyelashes.

"As you said earlier, you do have your exam in June, June 17th to be exact. So that gives us a couple of months to help improve your grade. Is there any particular grade you're aiming for?" He asked.  
"At least a C, I'd like to as least walk away from school with a pass," I said honestly. I planned to go to a music college, but that didn't stop me from wanting a pass. Mr. Way nodded as if understanding.  
"My idea is that you come here when you have your math classes, I'll speak to your teacher about it, but one-on-one classes are more helpful to get your chosen grade because of how much attention you get by it," He continued with me just continuously nodding when I felt it was appropriate.  
"You can just come straight here and we'll get straight to work on it, what do you say, Frank?"  
"Yeah, urhm, yeah, that'd be great," I replied with a small smile to which he returned.  
"Anyway, get out your math book and we'll have a look at where you're at."

I pulled out my math book and opened it to the new page and when I looked up I noticed Mr. Way had made his way around the desk to sit himself next to me. I didn't mind, nor did I find it strange. He was my teacher, he was supposed to sit next to me and help guide me.

I groaned when I realised what topic of math I was currently studying.  
"Algebra?" I questioned. I wasn't particularly good at algebra, actually, I wasn't any good at algebra. I mean, who thought it would be a good idea to mix letters with numbers? 2a-3b = -4a+7b made no sense to me at all, nor did I think it ever would.

I pulled out a pen from my bag and ruled of from my last piece of work and wrote out the current date. I wasn't too keen on my handwriting. I had always found it quite messy, but I guess I'd better learn to live with it.

"Okay, so algebra. What do you already know?" Mr. Way asked.  
"Honestly? Nothing, the teacher tried explaining and I just kind of turned my hearing off when he started going into letters and numbers," I replied with a light shrug. I half expected a long lecture on how I should be constantly listening in class because it's an important year for me and I'll only do well if I listen but that lecture never came.  
"Well, I guess we better start taking a close look at it then," was all he replied in an understanding voice with a light hearted smile. I'd never really had that with a teacher, the thought of him understanding me felt too strange for me, however I think I liked it. Having the recognition that I needed help which made him understanding of me.

Maybe Mr. Way wouldn't be such a bad tutor after all.


	4. Chapter 4

"Face it, man, I'm never gonna make it," I groaned loudly.  
"Be quiet, be positive about it. You're almost there," Mr. Way smiled weakly, he knew I wasn't getting it. His weak smile spoke a thousand words right now.  
"No I'm not," I replied.

I had spent the last two hours with Mr. Way talking through algebra and me getting more and more frustrated by it. I was no where near to understanding it than what I had been walking through into the office two hours ago. The letters and the numbers were forming together into a jumbled mess on the page, almost as if they were against me getting my grade. Gerard, I mean Mr. Way, was very persistent with me though, which I liked. Usually tutors gave up on me in the first hour because of how unfocused I was on math. I rarely gave math any attention because I knew I wasn't good at it, I was hopeless.

"I could do with a coffee right now," I sighed. It wouldn't be long till school was over and I could head over to my usual after school hangout; Starbucks.  
"You can go to the canteen if you want one?" He suggested kindly.  
"Nah, have you tasted it? It tastes like piss," I said too quickly before realizing I was talking to a teacher, "Damn, sorry," I added foolishly.  
"It's fine, and you're right. It does taste like piss. Nothing beats a Starbucks coffee, am I right?" He replied with a smile. I just nodded, not sure if he meant back to our encounter last night or if he was making a general statement.  
"Maybe we could go there now?" I suggested, knowing full well we wouldn't be able to.  
"Tempting thought," he started, "However, if we get caught I could be in so much trouble."

I groaned in frustration. We'd made it two hours and we still had about another half an hour to go. I wasn't going to understand it any time soon and I think Mr. Way had kind of grasped onto that. They say never to go higher than an hour at a time with one topic and I think that rule or suggestion was out of the window at this moment in time.

"Come on, no one'll know if we just walk out," I tried to reason with him, trying my very best to persuade him.  
"Ah, but if the cameras spot us then I could lose you as a student and I'll probably won't be trusted with any others," he reasoned back.  
"Then don't let them see us," I replied as if it was the obvious answer. Mr. Way just laughed and shrugged the conversation off.

I didn't see him agreeing with my little run away to Starbucks so I looked back at my work and not having much more luck than what I did ten minutes ago. I felt like I was bothering Mr. Way now and yes, I was aware that he's my tutor and that I'm supposed to annoy him to achieve my grade but I hated knowing I was getting on peoples nerves which is why I rarely went home; because I knew home much I annoyed my own mom.

"I still don't get it," I mumbled, shyly looking up at him, "Can't we just call it quits for today?"  
"I understand that it's hard and it probably will take a while for you to grasp, but okay. We have to stay here till the end of school though, that's the condition." I simply shrugged, glad that I wasn't being forced to do any more of satans subject.

I sighed back in my chair a little, feeling slightly awkward because it was just too quiet for my liking. Gerard, I mean Mr. Way, finally piped up though, asking about my future and what I wanted to do with my life.

"Honestly," I started, "I don't really have much of an idea. I'd love to do something with music, like, maybe become a member in a band or become a music teacher."  
"Then why do you want to succeed in math? I mean, if you want to follow in a music career why do you feel the need to pass math? Obviously I'm not saying you shouldn't because math is awesome" Mr. Way grinned.  
"Ah, yes, such an epic subject," I ginned back. "But I don't know, it'll look good on my college form if my grades are good in math. I'm pretty much failing almost all my subjects besides Music and English. They're the only two which I understand," I replied, which was true. I'd never been good at science. Especially physics, let's not go there. History was a bunch of dates which you had to know to be able to pass your exam and geography you'd expect to be about countries, but they managed to throw in a bunch of random stuff like lakes. English I felt like I was pretty good at. I loved reading and writing with Stephen King being my favorite author. I knew how to write well to give the image and impression I wanted to get across and this was also reflected in the lyrics that I wrote.

"What about you? Have you always wanted to be a math tutor?" I questioned, raising a brow at the ridiculous thought of dreaming about becoming a math tutor.  
"No. Like you, I love music and always saw myself doing something creative like singing in a band. That happened for a while but eventually we split up and it made me realize that music isn't forever. It's a sad thought but it's true. It's forever for the listeners but what happens when your band breaks up? I later went on to study comic books and I've got a degree in that but I wanted to help kids like you become something better," He said with a smile.  
"But why? Why not doing something awesome with art with your comic degree or whatever?"  
"Because I wanted to give others the grades that I never got because it turns out they impact a ton of stuff when you reach my age," Mr. Way chuckled.  
"You make yourself sound like you were born in the stone ages," I smiled.  
"I feel like I was."  
"You can't be that old, I mean look at you. You haven't got an aging line on you." He had laugh lines, which makes me think that he must have had a happy life. They suited him.  
"You're clearly not looking hard enough," Mr Way smiled, still no aging lines showing.  
"I reckon you're no way older than 25," I spoke, looking at his eyes. They didn't look aged enough, like they hadn't seen enough to show the aging most older people had. They gave no wear and his skin was flawless if that is even the right word to use.  
"So close," he mused, "24, but I feel way older with all the studying for this job I've had to do."  
He was only 24, not much older than me yet he managed to look younger than me. His porcelain skin made him look like a young teenager who had never been touched besides by angels, crappy comparison, I know.

I felt completely comfortable around Mr. Way which was a first for me. We had been able to talk to one another and find a little bit more about each other and making me understand that math, although I hate it, is really important which made me feel bad for finishing early. Turns out, it's very helpful when applying for jobs or colleges. However, I'm pretty set on the whole musician thing and I really don't want to have to turn into one of them with the day in day out jobs. I want a job which will mean something to me and help other people through something creative.

The bell, signalling the end of the day, went which I was glad for as it meant I could go get my life source; coffee. I got up from my seat and threw my hoodie into my backpack which I forgot to put away when I left the field. Mr Way, however, made no motion of getting up and I know it sounds silly, but he said he did say he wanted to get coffee, right? Or did I imagine that?

"So, are you, um, going to get coffee, with uh, me?" I stuttered. I was mentally kicking myself for being so foolish. I did seem weird; a student asking a teacher to coffee wasn't deemed acceptable, not now, not ever.  
"You were being serious?" He questioned, cocking a brow.  
"Well, yeah, I mean, if you want to. We never really went over the schedule of when to meet or what we're planning on doing," I haltered, " I mean topic wise." Nice save, Frank, I thought.  
"Okay then," Mr Way nodded, pushing himself away from his desk and stood up, straightening out his shirt and tie as he did so. He took his coat off the hook at the back of the door, and in my best description I'd say it was a trench style coat, you know the one with the collar and the buttons at the front with a belt? Yeah, a black one of those. He pulled it over himself, not caring to fasten it up and motioned for me to go through out of the door.

There weren't many students on the hallways, just the odd few rushing out of the doors after most likely being kept behind by their teacher for behavior in class, or maybe they were off to after school classes, who knows? More like, who cares?

When I reached the main doors and walked out into the cool air, I realised Mr. Way was still by my side, I half expected him to be still in his office hiding from my offer of coffee. The air was warm with a slight breeze, not much different from earlier. However, the sky looked warm. The sun wasn't hiding behind any clouds so the sky appeared to be bright blue with the occasional cloud; too warm for my liking but i clutched at the sleeves of my shirt anyway.

"So, uh, Mr. Way..."  
"Call me Gerard, being out of school and all," he gestured with his hands.  
"Right, Gerard, which coffee shop? Usually I just go to the local Starbucks on my corner or there's this great coffee shop in the town and there's also this one slightly out of town and it's small and the coffee is amazing," I stopped to take a breath before I realised Gerard was laughing at me.  
"What?"  
"Nothing, it's just, don't you ever breathe when speaking?"  
"Shut up," I mumbled.  
"Starbucks sounds great," he smiled at me.  
With that we were walking off down the street in the way of the local Starbucks and the only thought really going through my mind was 'I hope my table is available'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for this chapter being fairly short than the others


	5. Chapter 5

"No way, man, The Smiths are like the ultimate band," Gerard laughed out.

We had been sat for the past hour discussing music; from our favorite to our least favorite bands, you name it. Turned out we had very similar music tastes which made it easier for the past hour to flow. We'd managed to delve into Gerard's past band and how it consisted of him and his brother and he also sang me a few of the lyrics to one of the songs. His lyrics said something, I don't think Gerard managed to say what years he was in this band but the lyrics screamed "help". I didn't ask about it though; I didn't think it was my place to ask seeing as though we hadn't known each other for so long. I showed Gerard a few of my lyrics too, including the ones I had written earlier in the day. He said I had talent and real potential if I worked at it. I obviously took that as a compliment, who wouldn't? We had also managed to consume several coffees and it turns out Gerard also fuels off the stuff too.

I pulled myself back into the booth chair as Gerard delved into further detail about his favorite band and watched how he talked. Sounds creepy, right? It probably looked it from Gerard's perspective, but being a 'people watcher' I loved watching people get into what they were talking about. You can see the admiration on their face for whatever it may be that they're talking about and you know they're so into it by how their voice speeds up at certain points and how they gesture their hands when they're speaking. You can also see it in their eyes. You can see that light, or the 'spark' as I call it. Almost as if they're eyes are smiling. Which is what Gerard's were doing now. His hazel eyes were smiling as his mouth and hands were telling the story.

I continued to watch him. His fringe kept falling carelessly in his face as he spoke, and his hands were quick to correct the fallen strands of hair and tried their best to tuck them behind his ear. Eventually, he just gave up with his hair as it decided not to stay in place. The only time Gerard stopped talking was when he took a sip of his coffee and then he was talking on again. It was interesting to watch.

"You can clearly hear the emotion in Morrissey's voice," Gerard continued on.

"And that's pretty much why The Smiths are my favorite band," he concluded with a smile to which I had to smile back; his was quite infectious. I didn't even have to ask for him to tell me about them, he just did. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he did, it was nice to listen to.  
"I also really like Morrissey's solo stuff, he's one of my biggest inspirations," he smiled again.  
"But promise me you'll check The Smiths out? I'll write you my favorite songs or something," Gerard added in a dorky voice.  
"Sure, I'll listen to them, only if you promise to listen to The Smashing Pumpkins" I grinned.  
"Hm, sure, I guess it'll be worth it."

"Another coffee?" I asked as I watched Gerard take the last mouthful of his drink before he shook his head.  
"No, I'll have to go soon," he replied, to which I frowned slightly forming a small 'o' with my mouth. It had been nice to get to know Gerard in this depth. It would mean I'd want to know him even more but I guess knowing this much would make me feel more comfortable around him in our private tutoring lessons.

"I mean, I've really enjoyed this," he motioned with his hands, "but I've got things back home that I have to do and sort out for tomorrow and whatever. Plus I'm sort of tired," he said with a small smile and a fake yawn to get his point across.  
"But I'll see you tomorrow, right? For the tutoring?" Gerard asked and I nodded with a smile.  
"We never really did go over our schedule thing," I giggled lightly. The reason why we came here was to go over the schedule but I guess we were side tracked by each others amazing taste in music.  
Gerard laughed kindheartedly, " I guess we didn't. Hey, if you give me your number I can ring you later on or something and we can go over the plan I've written down in my book," he shakes his hand with his book in. "I think it's better that you know for tomorrow rather than be all confused when you get to school," he added thoughtfully.  
"Sure, uhm, let me write it down," I quickly nodded.  
I pulled out a pen from my bag and found a scrap piece of paper, which was supposed to be last weeks homework, in the depths of hell I called my bag and scribbled down my name and number before handing the paper to him.  
"Thanks," he smiled and stood up smoothing out his top as he did so.  
"I'll call you later then," and I just nodded again.  
Gerard waved before waking out, leaving me sat there to watch him walk out of the shop.

So my math tutor turned out to be half decent, as well as having amazing music taste, meaning it'd be a lot easier for me to get on with him which was essential when you're trying to teach a teenage boy math. It helped that he was good looking too, at least if I wasn't focused on math I'd be focused on something else.

After Gerard left, I stayed seated for several minutes. I really didn't want to go home purely because I didn't want to have to talk to my mother but my stomach was telling me otherwise which led me to being stood outside my house kicking myself for giving into simple temptations, in this case food. Damn myself for not bringing more money with me.

My house wasn't far from the coffee shop but it was far enough to drain me of all the remainder of my energy despite the caffeine I had consumed earlier. The streetlamps were glowing orange giving a warm feeling throughout me as I walked home and caused me to think about the time I had just spent with Gerard. I really liked him and I couldn't wait for tomorrow to come around. The only dampener on the subject was the thought of having to face my mom when I got home.

Only one light was on in the house, and that was the living room light meaning I couldn't get past my mom whether I wanted to or not. I can't get through my bedroom window as I hadn't left it unlocked overnight. I mentally braced myself as I opened the front door.

"Is that you Frank Anthony Iero? How dare you disobey me and stay out after school," my mom literally roared at me as she made her way through the house to the front door where I was still stood debating whether or not to run away.

Well here's a half decent day put to an end, my mind spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter which I apologise for


	6. Chapter 6

Last night had been worse than usual. 

I went home with the intention of eating but I was locked away in my own bedroom by my mom. She hadn't let me get a drink or anything to eat and I was feeling useless as ever. I couldn't get out of the door unless I tried running at it and there was clearly no use in even attempting that. My small build and height wouldn't get me very far, plus I'd probably be force to pay for breaking down the door, and breaking down the door for a drink seemed a little excessive. I was tired and hungry and I was just so drained I couldn't be bothered with the hassle of fighting against my mom. Fighting showed that she could potentially have won whatever this was. 

I was weak. I felt fragile and I had to go the entire night with no food or drink and eventually I passed out from exhaustion. 

The exhaustion took over me sending me into a state of what felt like lucid dreaming. My sleep felt heavy and my dreams were more intense than usual. They just seemed more... real.

I dreamt about mine and Gerard's conversation at the coffee shop, everything was the same. Everything Gerard said, had been what he said in the coffee shop whilst we were in conversation in my reality. The way he spoke. The way he sounded. The way he spoke about The Smiths, about Morrissey, about his least favorite bands was the same. His hand gestures were the same, how he smiled was the same. The only difference that made me fully aware of the fact I was dreaming was of the fact that he took me back to his place. He said we'd just go back and have some coffee at his place, even though we were sat in a coffee shop. He mentioned how he had wanted me to listen to The Smiths so I assumed that's what we would potentially be doing. How wrong was I?

A gold number '4' stood proudly on the dark, wooden door making people aware of which house this was. Something about the '4' made me remember it, and I wasn't sure whether it was because of the contrast or something else, either way the image of the door had become imprinted in my memory. Even though it was only a dream, it was memory, right? 

The building was new. You could tell by the brickwork, not that I noticed brickwork that much. And it seemed like an awfully large house for a teacher bearing in mind that their pay isn't exactly 'grand' which is exactly what this house said. Several large trees surrounded the driveway and there was something which I liked about that. Maybe it was the way they suggested dominance and protection, I wasn't too sure. 

However, there was something about this house that I liked very much. I wasn't sure if it was the way it looked, or the way it made me felt. I just knew that I wanted to come back here again and again, even if it was just a dream.

Gerard unlocked the door and walked inside and I followed suit. As soon as the door was shut behind us, Gerard pushed me back against the door and kissed me deeply, his tongue gliding along my lip, his hands holding firmly on my cheeks, my back hitting the door along with my head producing a slight crack. It hurt but I was soon occupied with a form of 'remedy' through Gerards mouth. I was caught completely off guard, I should probably expected something to have happened but wow, this was more than what I had imagined. Stunned, I was unsure of how to respond at first, but then came back to my dream-reality and kissed him back, parting my lips slightly for Gerard to gain access to my mouth and my hands resting on his hips. His right hand worked his way up my face and into my hair, pulling lightly causing me to moan against his lips. I pulled him closer to my body. 

I could feel Gerard becoming hot and sweaty against me, pushing himself closer towards me and working his hand down from my cheek, hovering down my side before resting under my thigh. His other hand followed suit to my other thigh and lifted me back up against the door resulting in my head cracking against the door and a slight hiss escaping my mouth at the sudden contact. It appeared Gerard was either careless or wanted it rough. Whilst up against the door, I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms clinging around his neck, my lips attached to his own. 

The rough making out seemed to go on for a while, which I didn't mind, before Gerard began to retract from the door and make his way through his house. I didn't notice much except that it was dark. I guess I wasn't really looking for anything, I was too preoccupied. With it being so dark I was surprised we didn't trip over anything. 

Gerard found his way to the couch before pushing us both down into it, my head hitting between the arm rest and back pillows. Gerard sat up from me, light from the streetlamp outside coming through the slit in the curtains to bring light to his face. I saw his lips form a smile whilst his eyes were smirking and full of lust. I bit down on my bottom lip and groaned as I watched Gerard push his hand slowly up my shirt, his hand spreading wide allowing his hand to touch as much of me as he possibly could. Using his other hand he started to push my shirt up and eventually over my head leaving my upper half exposed forcing Gerard to grin and leaving me feel very out there. 

"You're so beautiful," Gerard whispered. Gerard connected his lips to my neck again, sucking at my sweet spot and I melted against his touch. I was starting to get worked up and I could my jeans becoming uncomfortably tight as he grinded down on my hips causing me to gasp. My hands quickly darted to Gerard's hips as he did so. I wanted more of him.

My fingers fumbled with Gerard's belt and it took a while to undo it but eventually I was pulling it from around his waist and dropping in on the floor besides us. I wasted no time in unbuttoning his jeans and began to push my hand down between the fabric of his boxers and his smooth skin. I grabbed him earning a hiss from Gerard. He buried his head into my neck as I stroked his length, biting down on me as he started to feel more and more sensitive. 

It didn't take long for Gerard to come. He came in his boxers and over my hand, his head buried even further into my neck as he thrusted in my hand to carry out the wave if pleasure. I pulled my hand up to my mouth before licking each finger clean, Gerard's eyes still dark with lust as I did so.

Gerard soon recovered from his orgasm and soon his lips met my stomach. His tongue glided perfectly around my torso making me squirm in frustration. He'd stop to suck in certain areas before licking the mark he had just made. Gerard managed to cover every inch of my body which was bare before I felt tugging at my jeans and noticed Gerard had started to unzip them, his mouths focus still on my stomach. 

Once Gerard had finished undoing my jeans I lifted up my hips as he started to pull them off - along with my boxers. I was completely exposed yet I didn't mind. I thrusted my hips up. I was so frustrated and probably looked so needy but I didn't care. He'd teased me for what felt like ages and I needed the release. 

I felt warmth against the tip of my cock and looked down wide eyed at Gerard who smirked devilishly at me before wrapping his tight mouth around me. I threw my head back into the couch pillows and moaned out as I felt Gerard humming around my growing member. The vibrations from his mouth were working wonders on me. My hands worked their way down to Gerard's hair, pulling him further down my length as I thrusted into his mouth and he just seemed to take it, or he didn't have a gag reflex, both were hot. I felt Gerard pull back from around me and focused on the tip, swirling his tongue over the slit where pre-cum had started to leak. His hand started working on the lower area. His hand pumped up and down my shaft quickly as his tongue was working it's way tortuously slow. 

"Mhm Gee, quit teasi-" I managed to sigh out before another wave of pleasure washed over me. I was close. I could feel the warm feeling within my stomach.   
"Gee, I'm close," I moaned again. Gerard looked up at me with innocent eyes as he still licked over me.   
"Come for me, Frankie, I want you to come," Gerard whispered as he pulled back, his hot breath ghosting over my tip. "I want to taste you," he whispered again. I ground as he put my length back into his mouth, his head bobbing up and down quickly this time, the pleasure mounting in my stomach. Gerard began to hum again, which pushed me over the edge.  
"Gee, ah, Gee, I'm coming," I screamed.

A loud bang on my bedroom door awoke me from my dream.  
"Shut up, Frank, it sounds like you're dying," I heard the harsh sounding voice of my mom. I found it quite funny as she actually seemed to come shout at me for what could have been my death.

I quickly glanced over at my bedroom clock.   
4:57am.   
Why the hell was my mom awake at this ungodly hour? was all I thought before I looked down to see the problem I had forming in my jeans down below. I hadn't changed before going to bed, but I wish I had now; problems like this were never good in tight jeans. I haven't even known him a day, I thought to myself as my mind raced through the dream I had just had. However, even though I had only know him for a few short hours, that didn't stop me from unbuttoning my jeans and sliding my jeans down slightly to gain access to my hard cock. I wrapped my hand around it lightly and started pumping myself slowly. I knew I wouldn't last long, especially after the dream I had just had. 

My mind raced to how I had felt Gerard's mouth wrapped around me, to how he had kissed every inch of my neck and stomach. I pumped harder whilst thrusting against myself at the thought. I ran my thumb against the slit making me buck up into the air. Knowing that this was my tutor, someone I knew I shouldn't be thinking of like this only made it that much more intense and more hot for me. My grip tightened as that all too familiar feeling pooled in my stomach and my toes curled as I came in my hand, turning my face into my pillow to stop myself from moaning too loudly knowing it would gain more suspicion from my mom. 

As I came down from the incredible high I remembered that I wouldn't be able to leave my room to get cleaned up. I removed my jeans and boxers with not much haste, along with my shirt which I used to clean myself up, before throwing them over onto the floor. I pulled my cover over me, wrapping them tightly around my body, feeling more alone than ever, wishing they could've been someones arms that I could have fallen asleep in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could probably have been better written but oh well, hope you like this chapter


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